


Restless

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Sherlock is a man child, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored after so long without a case. John is a put upon flatmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> This came out a little cracky but still kinda cute, in my opinion. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Done fore the 30 day Drabble Challenge (that I am taking my good old time to actually do)

If he were completely honest with himself John would have to say he was surprised Sherlock lasted as long as he had. 

It had been an entire week since their last case and it didn’t seem like things would be changing any time soon. Even John’s blog was surprisingly low-trafficked as of late. John was happy to go about his normal life for quite a while longer (he’d given up trying to convince himself he’d be happy to give up the cases all together), but Sherlock was all but climbing the walls with his need for mental occupation. He’d burned though all of his waiting experiments and several new ones. The telly no longer held his interest any longer than the time it took for him to shout an insult at whatever John was watching.

It seemed, to John, that he’d even grown tired of sulking. That was his conclusion as, rather than lay about in a foul mood and his dressing gown, Sherlock had taken to pacing and rearranging things. Which was what he was up to at present.

The detective had moved everything in the house but John’s armchair. John let him go about it. He’d had to keep his gun on him at all times now for fear Sherlock would begin shooting the walls or the ceiling or any other number of things in his boredom. He’d already had to stop him from burning a hole in the floor with acid, blowing up the kitchen twice, and causing a new gossip circle within the Yard. Sherlock might have been out of his mind with boredom but John very much had his hands full.

“Sherlock, it won’t kill you to take it easy for a few days,” he tried after his flatmate had finished rearranging the books in some chaotic order that would only even make sense to him. 

The look he got in return was downright venomous. He wondered briefly if Sherlock was actually trying to kill him using only his mind. There should be something said when he couldn’t entirely write the idea off as ridiculous. 

“I _have_ ‘taken it easy’ since the last case, John!” Sherlock spat, finger quotes and all. His curled hair was in a great, dark mess from his hands running through it constantly in irritation. He resumed pacing, every movement slumped and brooding. 

“Well, you know, if you didn’t keep turning away every case that didn’t have a body count before even hearing these people out-”

“DULL!” he shouted, whirling around and leaning over John, his hands on the armrests of the sofa. They were all but nose to nose, Sherlock looming over John, ever the overbearing presence. “I don’t want mundane cases, John. I need to be stimulated. My mind needs to work or it will rot. Don’t you get that?”

Sherlock paused as if to think. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

John gave silent thanks to his time in the military. If he were anyone else he would have been intimidated by Sherlock and his actions. As it were, however, he was simply exasperated, and perhaps a little amused at the easily riled state his friend was in. “Then go and stimulate yourself.”

The innuendo only occurred to him after he’d replayed what he’d said in his mind and Sherlock had given him a thorough _honestly John_ look. He felt his cheeks grow warm. “Sod off.”

There was a quick smirk and a twinkle in his eye that could never mean anything good.


End file.
